


My Mind Was Aching

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity works up the nerve to talk to Oliver about one element of their sex life.  There’s babbling.  But then there’s a happy ending.  A couple of them.  Follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2886995">But I Was Already There</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mind Was Aching

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of feel like I’m flirting with embarrassment squick in this one, but I hope you hang in there with me and maybe I’m just imagining it. Title is, yet again, from _Shook Me All Night Long_ by AC/DC.

A Viagra commercial was probably not what she should be thinking about right now--not with Oliver kneeling in front of her, his hands unbelievably warm on her thighs. 

Because it wasn’t like either of them, particularly Oliver, needed Viagra. And because this moment was something she had fantasized about, Felicity wasn’t ashamed to admit how much she had wanted this: having Oliver in her apartment, smirking a little in that masculine way--only allowed when sexytimes were imminent--his amazing fingers toying with her clothes and making it clear that soon she would be naked. Naked with his tongue doing borderline-illegal things to her. 

As she watched him play with the hem of her dress, shifting the tight skirt up and down her legs before reaching underneath, she could feel her heart pound. Like it was about to come right out of her chest. And that made her remember the line from the Viagra commercial: _talk to your doctor to find out if your heart is healthy enough for sexual activity_.

Which was ridiculous, because first off, was there any man, ever, who thought his heart wasn’t healthy enough for sex? And secondly--secondly--oh God, _Oliver_.

XXX

_An hour earlier . . ._

“That is so strange.” 

Felicity lifted her eyes from the very important process of getting just the right amount of chocolate milkshake on her French fry to see Oliver giving her one of those looks. The fond, bemused, ‘you are so adorable how do you even exist?’ looks he seemed to give her all the time now. Well, not really--they were vastly outnumbered by the ‘I have to kiss you right now’ looks and the ‘when we’re alone together I want you to make me moan’ looks. 

“What’s strange?” she asked, popping the fry into her mouth and congratulating herself on not turning as red as a fire hydrant at the direction of her thoughts or revealing what said thoughts were. 

“That: dipping your fries into your shake,” he said, taking a long pull from his own shake, his cheeks hollowing slightly and making her focus on his lips. Making her remember the last time he had that face, the other day when his mouth was wrapped around her--

Taking a deep breath, Felicity sat up in the booth. “It’s the whole sweet and salty thing,” she said, casually sliding her foot against his. “Sometimes, ketchup just doesn’t have enough sugar. And there’s also the hot/cold thing. I’m sure they’ve done studies about why food with contrasts like that just taste better.” 

“And how do you scientifically measure ‘taste better’?” Oliver asked, his foot lazily rubbing back against hers. He grinned at her, clearly proud for keeping up with her banter, and she really wished she hadn’t made the Booth Rule so she could kiss him. But after the second time her Belly Buster had gone cold because of Oliver, she’d decided that they had to sit on opposite sides of the booth or table when eating out. 

During the last two weeks, since the night in the Arrow Cave when they had taken that very big physical step in their relationship, they were still figuring things out. Oliver had certainly been involved with plenty of women, but his relationship history was . . . well, to call it uneven was being polite. And although Felicity had dated a few guys, it had been years since she had a boyfriend, since she had someone to really share her life with. So it made for some awkward situations. And plenty of times when she discovered new things about Oliver. 

Such as the fact that Oliver Queen was touchy-feely. _Very_ touchy-feely. And not the touches on her elbow or shoulder or the affectionate hand clasps that she had gotten used to, back when they claimed they were just friends. No, now it was all very different, even when he was just resting his hand on her shoulder. Because now, his fingers wouldn’t stay still on her shoulder--he’d rub them lightly against her back. 

Even better, he touched her in other places. A light brush against the back of her neck, just under her ponytail. A thumb rubbing against the inside of her wrist. His knee pressed against her leg when he leaned against her desk, gazing at her as she tried to coherently explain whatever hacking she had just finished.

And that was just in public! When they were alone . . . hoo boy. She was touched _all over_ her body and she got to touch him all over his and it was--it was _good_. 

“Felicity.” 

With a jerk that pulled her foot away from his and sent her elbow skidding off the edge of the table, Felicity snapped out of her thoughts. Oliver’s grin had become the smile that she thought of as hers--the soft one that showed his teeth and reached his eyes. It actually seemed to reach all the parts of him, making him light up with happiness. Knowing that she did that for him made her heart just swell with love. And with wishes that they were someplace private.

Somehow, she managed to remember what they had been talking about before her mind went all soft around the edges. “I’m sure--I’m sure there’s ways to measure taste,” Felicity said slowly. “They had to figure out how taste buds work somehow, right? So it’s probably something with that.” 

Oliver nodded slowly, still smiling at her, and then stole one of her last fries. “I wonder if that’s fun. Studying taste. Or if all the science just sucks the fun out of it.” 

The way he oh-so-slightly emphasized the word ‘sucks’ made her internal antenna go up. The antenna that told her a sexual innuendo or double entendre was present. Normally, said antenna went up because of something she blurted out to Oliver. She quirked an eyebrow at him and took a long drink of her milkshake through the straw, watching for his reaction. 

His eyes darkened for a moment. _Bingo_. Also, hallelujah--not that, as a Jewish woman, she often said hallelujah. Because it was a pretty Christian exclamation, and--and she was supposed to be thinking about Oliver going down on her. 

Because he had made almost no secret of the fact that he wanted to do that to her--with her?--and she had kept distracting him when the matter came up. Or down, as the case may be. Because . . . because . . . 

She felt her face go red and she broke eye contact with Oliver, looking down at her plate.

“Hey,” she heard him say softly, before his hand wrapped around hers. When she kept her eyes averted, he squeezed her hand. “Felicity?” 

Lifting her head slightly, she looked around. Big Belly was fairly quiet tonight, and there were two empty booths between them and the next occupied one. So even though talking about this in public probably wasn’t the ideal choice, now might be the only time she had enough courage to actually have this discussion with Oliver. 

With a deep breath to steady herself, Felicity looked at Oliver. Who was looking a bit worried, and concerned, and anxious. Just because something didn’t seem right with her. When she met his gaze, he gave her a small smile and rubbed his thumb against her knuckles. And she felt so reassured that it was easy to start talking.

“You . . . you might have noticed, with all that we’ve been doing in my bedroom, and on my couch and that one time on your couch, and of course in the Foundry the first night . . . that, that there’s one thing I kinda haven’t let you do?” 

He looked confused for a moment, before his face cleared and he nodded. “I have . . .” he said slowly, tightening his grip on her hand just a bit. Just enough for her to sense his nervousness. 

Felicity swallowed and leaned in towards him a little, keeping her voice low. “Well, um . . . I thought you might be curious about why. And maybe I should talk to you about it.” She quickly held up her free hand. “It’s not a big deal, not really, I just wanted you to know and to find out just--how much you wanted to, um--” She threw another quick look around, and then said, her voice just barely audible, “How much you might want to taste me?” 

Oliver’s eyes were very expressive. So saying that his eyes went so dark they almost looked black was not an understatement. She was half-tempted to make sure Oliver hadn’t suddenly become Random Demon Number Three on an episode of _Supernatural_. And then she remembered just what had triggered them taking that last step and she realized, flushing to the roots of her hair, that the combination of her words and the ultra-soft whisper were probably making him wish they weren’t talking about this in Big Belly. 

“Oh my God, my brain hates me,” she said, sitting back and speaking in a more normal tone of voice. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Oliver--” 

“Just--just give me a minute,” he choked out, his voice almost a growl and damn it, now _she_ was getting worked up. Not that she wasn’t already, but--but he knew what that growly voice did to her. 

She gave him a sheepish smile and a nod, and to her relief, Oliver laughed a little, ducking his head. “You’re killing me, Felicity,” he said. 

“Would it help if I said I was killing myself, too?” she asked, feeling a bit shy. 

“A little,” he said, straightening up and gazing at her. “So . . . okay. I knew you didn’t seem comfortable with the idea, so I didn’t want to push you. But in answer to your question, yes. I very much want to find out how you taste, Felicity Smoak.” 

Okay, what the hell was she thinking? Because now she was practically squirming from squeezing her legs together hard enough to keep from soaking through her underwear. Because . . . because it was _Oliver_ , talking about going down on _her_ , which she had imagined him doing _a lot_ , which was ironic given her issues with cunnilingus. 

And now her body had joined forces with her brain in their ‘We Hate Felicity!’ quest. 

Oliver squeezed her hand. “Felicity? If you don’t say anything, we can’t really discuss this.” His voice was very gentle, but there was also a bit of steel there, too. As if he was saying, ‘you opened this can of worms, it’s up to you to finish the job’. And he was right. 

“This was the worst place to talk about this,” she admitted. “But . . . but I was thinking about it, and you know what they say, strike while the iron’s hot and all that. So yes, you’ve noticed I haven’t wanted you to do that, and it’s because--well, it’s embarrassing, but it’s only happened twice, guys trying to go down on me, and both times, they stopped because . . .” Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, “They couldn’t get me off and they both said I tasted weird.” 

There was silence for what felt like forever but was probably only fifteen seconds. And then . . . it sounded like Oliver was laughing?

Her eyes flew open as she saw that Oliver had his hand over his mouth, his shoulders were shaking, and his eyes were sparkling with amusement. She frowned and pulled her hand away from his, and Oliver almost immediately sobered. “Felicity--” 

“I appreciate you trying to hold back the laughter,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, fighting against the waves of embarrassment. “And I know--I _know_ I’m being ridiculous for thinking that those guys and you have anything in common, because you really don’t and it’s not even fair to make the comparison in the first place, but . . . but compliments never last--they don’t stay in your brain like the mean stuff does.” 

Oliver got up and quickly slid in beside her in the booth, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “Felicity, you’re right. About those other guys and about the mean stuff,” he said, rubbing his hand against her upper arm.

“I just didn’t want you to be surprised,” she said, hating how meek she sounded. “Because you want this and I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Hey,” he said, giving her a little shake and making her look at him. “You don’t disappoint me. You never have and you never will.” 

Even though it was tempting--very tempting--to sink into a spiral of shame and self-loathing, something stopped that from happening. Perhaps it was the absolute conviction in Oliver’s voice, even though they both knew he was promising something that wasn’t possible. Or perhaps it was the way he looked at her, like he’d do anything to make this problem go away for her. 

Or maybe she was just finally ready to get past this issue. To stop letting this hold her back. Because . . . she had this amazing man. Her life was really, really good. And she liked who she was. She was Felicity Smoak: MIT graduate, girly girl, the brains of Team Arrow, hacker nerd extraordinaire . . . and the girlfriend of Oliver Queen. Yeah, even though they hadn’t done the boyfriend/girlfriend talk yet, she knew that was what she was--his girlfriend.

That was pretty damn awesome. So why couldn’t she have it all if that’s what she wanted? Didn’t she deserve that? 

It was such a new way of thinking that it took her a few minutes to really get a grip on it. And through it all, Oliver just sat there beside her, his hand smoothing over her shoulder. Loving her. 

Lifting her eyes to his, she let herself take him in. He gave her a small smile. “Better?” 

Felicity nodded. “Yeah. But . . . but I’d be even better if you take me home. And taste me.” 

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she was sure--she knew he was thinking it--so she leaned in to kiss him slowly, her fingers drifting up to stroke his jaw. After a moment, he kissed her back deeply, but pulled away before the kiss got too heated. 

“C’mon,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the booth. Something about seeing Oliver like this--so eager and smiling and excited--made her giggle as she followed him out of Big Belly.

Throughout the drive back to her place, she saw Oliver keep throwing little glances at her. He had this look on his face, one that she’d call calculating if the word didn’t sound kind of menacing. But she could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Another thing she had discovered about Oliver? He was competitive. Very competitive. Especially when it came to things he did well. She had already known that, sort of. He certainly wiped the floor with Digg whenever they were talking about who was the better hand-to-hand fighter, not to mention proving to Roy who was the better archer with a certain in-your-face flourish. 

But that was as the Arrow. When it came to being competitive as Oliver Queen? One of the things he was good at--really good at--was sex. And Felicity was pretty sure he was going to pull out all the stops for her tonight. 

And all those fantasies she had over the years, all the times she had imagined if maybe it was Oliver who could break the jinx of her and oral sex . . . she was pretty sure what was going to happen would be so much better than anything she could come up with.

When they got to her place, Oliver didn’t waste time with words. He simply grabbed her hand as soon as she was out of the car and pulled her up the stairs. Felicity’s face was flushed, her palms were sweaty and her stomach full of butterflies, but . . . but she didn’t want to back down. 

The minute they were inside her apartment, Oliver turned and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her slowly. It was a strangely sweet kiss: tender and romantic and deep, his hands resting against her back as he held her close to him. She felt herself melt against him, something she thought romance novels had made up until she met Oliver and found out that you could melt--you could feel like your whole body was designed to soften, so you could fill in all the gaps in him and he could fill in your gaps, too. 

“Against the door or in your bed?” 

Oliver’s muttered words against her lips made her pull back. “Huh?” she asked. 

For some reason, her answer made him smirk a little. “Never mind. We’ll try both tonight.” He kissed her again and Felicity gripped his shirt tightly in her hands, feeling her legs get weak. Because . . . both? Tonight? _Seriously_?

God, she had to remember how he was smirking. Because she needed to wipe that smirk off his face at some point--oh, she was against the door now.

And he was on his knees in front of her, looking up at her as he glided his fingers up the inside of her thighs, and ooooh . . . She widened her stance, her knees falling open, and he grinned widely at her. 

She grinned back and gently stroked her fingers through his hair. “Thank you.” 

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Oliver said, his hands reaching under her skirt and stroking her hipbones through her panties. 

“You have,” she said, feeling her voice get a little bit choked. 

This time, his smile was softer, happier. But then he pushed her skirt up and tugged her underwear down and Felicity had to lean her head back against the door as she felt his breath _right there_. 

“I love you,” he whispered, almost too softly for her to hear, before his mouth covered her. No teasing, no delay: just his fingers and lips and tongue, right where she needed it, just how she needed it. They’d been having foreplay all night--for the last two weeks--for the last two years, maybe; was it any wonder he didn’t make her wait tonight? 

Oh--oh, God, this was good. Felicity bit her lip and tugged a little on Oliver’s hair, hearing little moans and gasps escape her. And he was making noises, too, as he sucked and licked and . . . ooh, that was making her even wetter and that shouldn’t be possible! She--she was pretty sure the first problem with Tasting Felicity was about to be--

“Oliver!” she gasped as she came and the whole world went dim.

XXX

They did try both. And each had something to recommend them. Against the door felt hot and a little bit dirty and the angle was very, very nice, in the most massive of understatements. In her bed, Oliver could take his time and build things up and that was even nicer, really. And since she didn’t have to worry about staying upright or having Oliver split his focus between holding her up and eating her out, she could focus on what he did to her. But the big plus to her bed was that it made it super easy for her to pull him on top of her and draw him inside her after he made her climax. 

Felicity let out a soft hum of contentment, holding Oliver tightly and running her hands over his shoulders and back. He was panting, his body trembling a little, and she could sense that even though he had come, the tension wasn’t gone yet. Not fully. 

So it looked like she had wiped that smirk away. 

“Hey,” she said softly, peppering kisses against the side of his face. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He nodded and she could feel his shoulders relax ever-so-slightly. “‘Cause I’m on top of you.” 

“Yep,” she said, dragging one leg around his hip. “And you’re not moving.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, dragging his nose against her neck a little. “I’m gonna get heavy soon.”

“Don’t care,” she said softly, lightly running one hand down his back. “I need you to stay right here.” 

Oliver lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes thoughtful. She knew she probably had given away too much of what she was thinking, touched on all those emotions she was still working through from his absence and then his return. They had spent so much time talking and working through it, but . . . she wouldn’t ever really be over it. Because he had been gone. 

Her heart fluttered in her chest, in a way it had never done before, and it made her think of that stupid commercial again, and all she could do was smile at him and say the only words that came close to capturing how she felt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said softly, returning her smile and brushing his lips against hers. 

She slid a hand into his hair to deepen the kiss, and she knew he was propping himself up on one arm, keeping his weight from crushing her, so she tightened her leg around him and he groaned and pulled back from her lips. “Wait, wait--I gotta tell you something.” 

“Uh-huh?” she asked breathlessly, keeping him close to her. 

He looked at her for a long moment, then that damn smirk appeared slowly on his face. “I’m still not sure how you taste. I’m trying to figure out how anyone could describe it as ‘weird’--I wonder if those scientists who study taste feel the same way--”

The rest of his words were cut off by her pillow hitting him in the face. He laughed even as he grabbed his own pillow to defend himself. 

Felicity was pretty sure all the hits Oliver took to the face had to hurt, even if the weapon was a pillow. But since she was prepared to kiss it--and every other part of him--better, she didn’t think Oliver would mind _too_ much.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> I think every story about Oliver giving Felicity oral sex owe a debt to RosieTwiggs’ [Open Heart and Lithe Tongue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2057757). Hopefully, my take wasn’t too similar to Rosie’s!


End file.
